Somebody That I Used To Know
by aracelymercerchandler
Summary: Aracely Mercer-Chandler is devastated. Her brother is dying and her life has been torn to shreds. Can Severus Snape help turn her broken existence around? Severus SnapexOC oneshot OOC Severus Snape


"I am sorry, Miss Harker," said the Healer with a sympathetic look, "but there is nothing that can be done to help your little brother that has not already been done. Nothing at all. I am afraid all we are able to do is make him more comfortable as he deteriorates. If you wish, I could have him removed to the Hospital..." "That will not be necessary, thank you, Healer Kilrain," replied the young lady as her hand looped around her brother's, "all Aiden has ever needed is me." Her long, strawberry blonde braid falling down her shoulder, Grace Harker led her younger brother out of the main part of Salem, down Main Street and away from the Common. Past the twin spires of the Salem Witch Museum, down toward the harbor, where the boats rested like a floating village. The mostly sleepy town of Salem was unique in its construction. Here, Muggle and Wizarding kind lived almost side by side. While many a traveler knew Salem as the Witch City, even the residents did not know just how true that was. Hidden among the Muggle witches, those followed the Old Ways, were Wizarding kind. It was Number 14, Pioneer Street, that the Harkers called home. It was a small row house, and they occupied Apartment 3A. It was a two-bedroom apartment, each room rather small. The kitchen and living area looked in on each other. The furniture had been salvaged from the fire which had orphaned them five years ago. Since then, Grace had been forced into a sort of combat for survival. A kindly landlady who rented her extra rooms had given them their tiny home, above her own, and allowed them to live there in exchange for the work Grace could do. She looked after them, becoming their legal guardian temporarily. Grace had hoped she would show magic and could take a place at Salem Institute. She had no magic. She had turned out to be a disgrace to Wizarding kind...a Squib. She had taken her bootstraps, pulled at them firmly, and gave a sharp tug. This led to a job at sixteen in an apothecary shop. It was run by a kindly witch named Marinda Kirk, and her Muggle witch friend Etherian Silver. Together, they ran the Raven's Moon Apothecary, providing not only a variety of herbal concoctions which were brewed on site, but Tarot readings, and other counsel to those who came in seeking advice. For three years, Grace worked from before the shop opened and long after it closed. When she returned home one evening in October, near All Hallow's Eve, her cry brought their kindly former guardian to their door. Aiden, her precious little brother...her dear little brother, the little boy she did everything for, had collapsed in a heap. When the Muggle physicians could give no explanation for his strange ailment, which only seemed to get progressively worse, Grace took her brother to the Salem Hospital for Magical Ailments. Much like its British counterpart, St. Mungo's, it was concealed in a Muggle building near the city's Common. Over a few weeks, Healer Kilrain attempted every sort of Diagnostic Spell imaginable, administered strange potions, and performed various other magical cures that could be attempted on a boy of his eleven years. All Healer Kilrain could deduce was Aiden's magic was working like a Muggle auto-immune disease...attacking his body from the inside. Grace brought Aiden home, walking very slowly to accommodate his shorter legs and damaged lungs. She laid him down on his bed, stroking his sandy brown hair, her blue eyes filling with unshed tears. "Don't cry, Sister," said Aiden with a weary smile, "please...don't be sad for me. I will be all right. I'm sorry for being such a burden." "Oh, stop," she said, kissing his forehead, "you're no burden to me, Aiden. You're my dear little brother...and I promise...I will do something, anything I can, to help you. You're going to Salem Institute, and you'll be a great wizard. I promise." The sun was just beginning to set over Salem Harbor, and while Aiden rested at home, Grace walked along the pier, tears stinging her eyes. "Please...someone...help," she half-whimpered to the empty pier, the street beside it, and even the tall three-masted ship which was part of the Park display. Taking out her handkerchief, she dabbed at the tears, not noticing one drop to the ground. "Why do you cry, young lady?" a small but distinctly male voice asked from her right, near where her tear had fallen a few moments ago. She let out a gasp as she looked down. Standing at about her knee's height was a young man. He was dressed in a simple matching tunic and leggings of a pretty blue. What appeared to be a small pair of wings arched from his shoulder-blades, making Grace blink; she was not sure she had seen them. His violet, cat-slit eyes sparkled like his pointed teeth as he smiled at her and ran a hand through his tousled white hair. "I—who are you?" she asked, strangely calm in the face of this new being which appeared to have emerged from her very tears. "Robin," he said clearly, bowing with a flourish. "I saw your tears from beyond the Veil, and I want to know why you cry." His voice was soft, kind, and musical. Grace watched as he came to hover in front of her, taking a place on a stone bench along the pier. In a sad voice, she told him her story...everything she had been through, and of her brother's plight. "Well," mused Robin, "it sounds as if you, young lady, are in quite a predicament. You have no magic...and even the best Healers in this city cannot seem to help him. I see an empty chair by the hearth rug, and a bed without an owner in a short time, if things remain as they are." "He's my brother!" declared Grace fiercely, angry tears filling her blue eyes, "I will fight to save him. No matter what." The three words Robin had waited to hear. ""No...matter...what,"...hm?" he asked, looking at Grace critically, as if gauging whether she truly meant what she had said. "Yes," she said, "I will do anything I can to save him." The fae chuckled to himself. This was too rich, too good to be true. "Very well," he said, casting his mind back, through the years, "there is, believe it or not, someone who can save your brother's life. A Master of Potions, far across the sea. His name is..." "How can I find him?" Robin stopped, tampering down the irritation which threatened to rise and make him snap at the young woman in front of him. She did not appear to be a girl without manners, and put it down to the situation as he went on. "Buried, dear child. Dead and buried some...ten years ago." "You're cruel, Robin," snapped Grace bitterly, "why did you make me think he was living?" "You did not let me finish. And, before I was interrupted so, I was about to give you his name. It is Severus Snape." The fae sounded offended, and Grace lowered her head, murmuring an apology. She had of course heard of Snape, albeit in the way of some vague historical figure. He had been one of best Potions Masters of his time...and also one of the most infamous characters of the Wizarding War. "He could live again. I'm a fae, remember? Time and space mean nothing to me. If you wish, I...could...restore him to life, and bring him to you. But for a price, young lady. A price." "What is it?" She recoiled a little as Robin looked her over, studying her quizzically. She was not exactly strikingly beautiful, but there was something in her manner and presence which compelled him. His cat-like gaze was somewhat unnerving, as intense as it was interesting and beautiful. "Your gift," he finally said, "the one thing which you hold dear. Your voice, little Grace. Your voice, for the life of your brother. Take it, or leave it." Nibbling at her bottom lip, the girl considered the offer. Her brother was her world, the one person she had in this life to cling to. Could she give up singing...the one thing that belonged to her? Each Saturday, she went to the Witch's Brew Cafe...to In A Pig's Eye...even Salem Common...and performed. As often as not, she would sing. She was sometimes given a second-glance at the apothecary, when someone recognized her at the girl with her violin and the pretty voice of a Sunday. She knew there were whispers she could go far, if she weren't saddled with that little brother of hers. "Well? What say you?" asked Robin, seeing her indecision. "Agreed," she said, "let the bond be sealed." "Very well then, Sister Squib," declared the fae with a little smirk, "look to the Moon, and sing." Turning her eyes out onto the moon, which rose beautifully over the harbor, Grace let her voice ring out over the waters. Robin reached out, listening to the sweet, harmonious notes which flowed from her throat. It was a voice that was untrained, yet with a purity and clarity he had only heard in the exalted halls of the Faerie Queen herself. Or so he mused as the notes formed a silver orb in his hand, becoming trapped in a conjured crystal. It was a moment before he spoke again. "Very well," he said, "your part of the bargain is fulfilled, little Grace," said Robin to the now silent young woman, "it is time for me to fulfill mine. Go home now, to your little brother, for whom you sacrificed so much. By sunrise, the one man who can help you will be here." 


End file.
